To the tiger lily, the rose had said,
"Summer's gone and the leaves are dead,
But you, in your hothouse, bloom lovely still
Please share your fortune, if you will."
The tiger lily shook her head
And to the rose, in reply, she said
"I have no part in this, it's just
My owner cares for me and must,
Ergo, keep me in this paradise true
Or I would perish, just like you."
The rose was sad, she wished aloud,
"If only I had an owner as proud
Of me, as Tiger Lily's is of her
I'd not be freezing, as it were."
She looked at her falling petals and sighed
And then at Tiger Lily, blooming with pride
All she could do was wait for spring
When grey clouds scatter and the breezes sing.
She settled down to await her fate
To sleep she went, for it was late
No longer she thought of Tiger Lily gay
The rose would awake, perhaps, in May
Perhaps in spring she wouldn't envy her friend
Resting in her glass house until her end.
The rose hoped soon, someone would see
Her pretty gown and then she'd be
Picked and watered and her owner would keep
Her gay and merry,
But 'til then she'd sleep.